


Maybe It's Fate

by damimenhaas (weightedlive)



Category: Smosh
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Angst, Battle, Demigods, F/F, Gen, Homelessness, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Smosh Writing Week 2019, Smosh Writing Week 2019 - Day 5, Twelve Gods of Olympus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), punk courtney miller, this is a wet dream of all my years reading percy jackson and watching smosh combined
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-07-21 07:21:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19998067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weightedlive/pseuds/damimenhaas
Summary: Courtney is shivering, hiding on the street corner in the dim light of a nearby light. She had given up on finding a place to sleep for the night.Wes was cracking under the pressure, holding every doubt in, keeping his family safe. He had to be a leader to them, whether he had chosen to be or not.Damien felt like his head was spinning and his eyes were on fire. The only thing that put it out was a look into his friend’s eyes or nearly working himself to death for days on end. He was hiding from everybody, hiding from a past that could never seem to leave.The gods to not return to Earth often. They are distant from their mortal creations, watching from the heavens as they fight their wars and make their mistakes. Their world did not connect with the mortal’s, unless they knew they needed them. Over twenty years ago, they knew they would be needed again, and so they returned to the world of man and brought brave warriors into the world. They only wished they had made the right decisions.





	1. Meet The Outcasts - Courtney

Courtney had given up on finding a place to sleep that night. No matter what she offered the men and women who she met at the bar or just walking along the street - sex, company, drugs - they had all declined, politely or not. Maybe it was her appearance. The few people she regularly talked to always made a point of referencing how intimidating she must look to those who don't know her. Her eyes were surrounded by dark circles, her hair was often ratted and messy, save for the shaved part on the right side of her head. Her clothes were oversize and dirty most of the time, as she didn't have access to a laundry machine unless the person's house she was staying at had one. Her arms were littered with sloppy tattoos, mostly flash prints that her friend, a tattoo artist apprentice, had wanted to practice on other people. She loved all of her tattoos, no matter how shaky the lines or how painful they were, but her favorite had to be the pair of wings on the back of her neck. It was the only one she had professionally done, by a friend of hers who had moved away long ago. It was the only part about herself that she had never covered up, because it was so beautiful. 

She walked along the sidewalk, past the houses lit from the inside. She imagined the families there; couples who had just moved in together, a dad with three kids who had lost his wife not long ago, an elderly couple that loved each other even if they argued every five minutes. She felt a sting of envy in her chest as she imagined them, their lives imperfect but happy. It was something she had wished for since leaving Los Angeles, but had never admitted to. Showing that side of her would open her up to manipulation and disappointment. So she just kept to her routine and pushed away all hopes of leaving this life she had endured for so long.

She stood on the corner of the street, leaning against the wall of a building that appeared to have been abandoned for years. Had it not been for the police tape covering the entrance, she might have tried to shack up there for the night. But going sleepless in favor of her safety was something she was used to, so she didn't mind the chill that San Francisco's summer nights brought. She closed her eyes and let the sounds of the night surround her, even as her hand held onto the pocketknife in her jacket.

The ambiance was disturbed by the sound of footsteps confidently striding down the sidewalk. Courtney's eyes shot open, tightening her grip on her knife instinctively, preparing for the worst that could come her way. What was walking down the sidewalk towards her was someone that caught her slightly off guard. It was a beautiful woman with dark hair and olive skin, dressed in a simple leather jacket and hunting boots. Her eyes were beautiful and also unnerving - a cool, steely grey that made the hairs on Courtney's neck stand up straight. She seemed to radiate a powerful energy, something that Courtney could feel even from ten yards away. The woman approached Courtney calmly, but her gaze was so intense that Courtney had to avert her eyes for a moment. The woman stopped a few feet from her and spoke.

"What are you doing out here all alone?" Her voice was low and raspy, and in the dim light of the street lamp behind her, Courtney could see her eyes were lined with black, smudged and slept in. It made her eyes stand out even more.

Despite every cell in Courtney's body screaming at her to run, there was something about this woman that intrigued her. Something that was forcing her to stay put and relax her grip on the knife she held. She looked into the woman's eyes, as severe as they were.

"I'm out here most nights." She deadpanned, trying to mimic the raspiness and bad-assery that the woman possessed. The woman's eyes softened for a moment and she took a step towards Courtney. It wasn't threatening, just a friendly gesture.

"Are you cold?" She asked. Courtney debated lying. Who was this woman anyway? But there was still that something about her that made Courtney feel comfortable, more than she had in a while. She couldn't lie to her.

"Yeah." She whispered her response. The woman immediately began to remove her jacket and presented it to Courtney, revealing muscular arms covered in long, slashing scars. 

Courtney tried to refuse the jacket, but she reached out and took it anyway, putting it on over her light flannel shirt. The cold disappeared almost immediately, and the woman met her eyes again. This time, her eyes were shining, no, _glowing_ \- a bright white that lit up the area around the two of them. 

"You are special, Courtney Miller. You will do amazing things. Take care, you are loved." The woman's voice changed to a regal boom that shook the ground beneath Courtney. Her heart began pounding in her chest as a million thoughts raced through her head. _Was I drugged? Am I going crazy? How does she know my name? What the fuck is going on?_

The woman reached out and gently touched Courtney's forehead, and all her thoughts stopped as she collapsed on the sidewalk.

* * *

Courtney awoke to the sound of cars driving along the road and birds chirping. She was still on the corner she had been last night, except she was covered in a soft woven blanket with images of deer stitched into the fabric. Her back was leaning against the same building she was next to last night, her legs outstretched in front of her. She looked around and noticed there was a plate of eggs and bacon next to her, along with a cup of coffee that was still steaming despite the chill of the morning air. 

Her thoughts began to race again as she realized that she was still wearing the leather jacket that the mysterious woman had given to her last night. That proved it wasn't a dream, unless she was still dreaming now. But everything she was feeling was so real, the leather against her skin, the blanket resting on top of her, the morning breeze that didn't phase her. And she felt different physically, too. She didn't feel tired for what must have been the first time in years. Her body didn't ache and her feet didn't hurt. As weird as the entire situation was, she was grateful for whatever that woman did, even if it was totally batshit.

She took the plate and scarfed down the eggs and bacon so fast she felt dizzy afterwards. The coffee was just how she liked it, which made her question who this woman was even more, but she drank it nevertheless. Once she was finished, she was left with no idea what to do with herself. She had so many questions running through her head that she couldn't find the answers to no matter how hard she tried. She couldn't find any logical reason for why the woman's eyes glowed or why she passed out when she touched her. It was all too much to think about in the moment, so she gathered herself and began to walk down the sidewalk into downtown, leaving the blanket and leftovers of her breakfast behind.

There were already hundreds of people milling around, going into shops and talking with one another. Courtney kept her eyes ahead as she passed people who she knew were giving her looks. Some might think, poor girl, she looks so awful. Others might say, 'probably a drug addict' to their partner. She was used to it by now, and she just continued walking. 

She wasn't going anywhere in particular, just moving around in an attempt to clear her mind. Ahead of her there was a sign for an antique shop, boasting their collection of old weapons and vintage records. Courtney had never noticed it before, so she decided to take a look. 

As she stepped inside, she was hit with the smell of dust and cheap perfume. Saying the store was cluttered would be an understatement - every inch of wall and floor space was crammed with some old piece of furniture or random knick-knack, leaving only a narrow, winding path that led into the remainder of the store. There was a bucket of old muskets and umbrellas right next to the entrance, an interesting combo to say the least. Courtney slowly walked along the path, trying to take in everything that was around her. 

She stopped in front of a glass case housing old comic books from the 1950s. A smiling drawing of Wonder Woman stared back at her, and she remembered the woman last night had resembled her in a way. The dark hair and muscular frame, the confidence about her, the indescribable magnetic pull she had. It was interesting. Maybe her name was Diana too.

Courtney turned down the isle and saw three people standing at the end, looking at her. There was a tall boy with glasses and wild, curly, brown hair. He was dressed in eccentric, bright patterns that should have clashed but didn't somehow. To his right was a shorter girl with long black hair. She was alarmingly beautiful, like nobody Courtney had ever seen before. She was wearing a light kimono printed with blue dragons and shorts that barely poked out from underneath the robe. To the left of the boy was another girl, just barely reaching his shoulder in height. Her skin was dark, and her arms were adorned with countless silver bracelets. She was covered in jewelry from head to toe. Her clothes were all black and flowing, there was something about her that put Courtney on edge. Her instincts proved to be right, as the girl waved her hand and silenced the shop. Everything appeared to be frozen in time, and the store around them faded away as Courtney focused on the group.

"Who the hell are you?" She asked, pulling out her knife and pointing it towards the girl in black. The boy stepped forward and put his hands up in front of him, speaking calmly.

"We don't want to hurt you. This is just for your safety." He placed his hand on his chest. "My name is Noah. This is Olivia," He gestured to the girl in the dragon kimono. "And Boze." The girls looked towards him, the one in black more maliciously than the other. 

"We want to help you. We know what you're going through and we can take you somewhere where everything will make sense." He lowered his arms and reached a hand out to Courtney. "You can trust us." He sounded genuine, and he wasn't off putting like the girl in black. But Courtney was wary of strangers like this, who seemed too normal. She had been hurt by her trust in them before, so why should she trust them now?

"Prove it." She spit at him. He sighed and looked to the other girl, Olivia, then back to Courtney.

"Okay. That jacket you're wearing?" He pointed to her. "I know who gave it to you." 

Courtney's eyebrows furrowed, but she lowered the knife, placing it back in her pocket. "Tell me who."

Noah looked around the store before resting his eyes on Courtney. "We can't do it here. Please, come with us and we'll explain everything."

Courtney nodded, and the girl in black waved her hand again, restoring the store to full light and volume. "Come with us." She said, her voice startlingly cheery considering her appearance. The three began to walk to the back of the store and Courtney followed, trying not to trip over any antiques that were in her way. The back door opened up to a small alleyway, where a black pickup truck sat, waiting. Noah and Boze climbed into the front seats, leaving Olivia and Courtney to sit in the back of the cab. Courtney couldn't remember the last time she had been in a car to actually drive in. The seats were worn but comfortable, and she rested on them, fastening her seat-belt with the rest of the passengers.

Noah started the truck and began to drive down the alleyway, away from the main part of the city. They drove over the Oakland Bay Bridge, and Courtney realized that she hadn't left San Francisco for almost three years. That place was her home, whether she was welcome there or not. She felt a twinge of sadness as the city grew to be further in the distance. She then felt a hand on her leg, and she turned to see Olivia looking at her sympathetically. 

"It'll all be okay. We're going to take care of you." As threatening as that could have sounded, Olivia's tone and sincerity calmed Courtney's nerves, and she offered a shy smile at the other girl.

The truck drove off the highway onto a side road, through an area that began to get more dense with trees as they continued. Noah turned the wheel suddenly, veering off the road into a dirt driveway that Courtney couldn't see the end of. They had to have been driving for at least ten minutes before they reached the house at the end.

The house was a massive two story cabin, paneled with a light orange wood that blended in with the surrounding trees. The house was covered in various plants and flags with symbols that Courtney didn't recognize. In front of the truck was a picnic table next to a hammock tied between two large trees. In the distance, she could see water shimmering in the sunlight. There was a huge front porch covered by a roof, with a few people sitting in chairs and talking. 

Noah and Boze stepped out of the truck, and Courtney and Olivia followed suit. The people sitting on the porch stopped their discussion and stood up to greet the group. A large man with silver hair that fell to his shoulders walked forward, dressed in a tight black shirt and cargo pants that tucked into a pair of worn down boots. He gave Noah a hug, clapping him on the back. He nodded to Boze and waved to Olivia, smiling brightly. As intimidating as he initially appeared, this guy seemed very friendly. He went up to Courtney and reached out his hand.

"Hey, I'm Wes. You must be Courtney." Courtney shook his calloused hands and noted the impressive size difference between his hands and hers. He towered over her, but his persona brought him back down to eye level with Courtney, in a metaphorical sense.

"Hi. Um, what is this place?" She asked, looking around the area more. The house was in the center of a clearing surrounded by massive trees that blocked out all but what was within. There was a large fire pit across the clearing on the opposite side of the house from the picnic table, with wooden chairs and benches encircling it. Behind the fire pit Courtney could see a basin atop a pillar that she couldn't predict a use for.

Wes looked around with her, smiling proudly. "This is a safe place for people like us, people like you." Courtney turned to him quizzically.

"What do you mean, people like me? Is this some sort of homeless shelter?" Wes's smile dropped for a second and his expression shifted to something more fatherly.

"No. Well, in a way, yes. But the main purpose of this place is to protect special people who may not be safe anywhere else." He gestured to the group of people around them. "All of us have something special that made life harder for us in regular towns and cities. Here, we can be ourselves without fear of being hurt or punished. We're a family, and we protect each other. That's the foundation of all of this."

Courtney just stared at him trying to take everything in. He was being incredibly vague, but Noah had promised her an explanation. Maybe it just wouldn't be from Wes right now.

"You should come inside and meet everybody else. We already have a room for you, so no need to worry about that." Wes motioned for her to follow him up the stairs of the porch. Courtney could hear Noah, Boze, and Olivia trailing behind as well. The other two men on the porch greeted Courtney with a smile. One of them was of a similar build to Wes, tall and muscular, with glasses and dark brown hair that grazed his forehead. He too wore a black shirt, with regular blue jeans and sneakers. The other man was shorter and thinner, but still looked athletic. He had dark skin and close cropped hair covered by an army green baseball cap, and a colorful printed shirt that stood out against the color of his skin. 

The inside of the house was beautiful. There were plants everywhere, some hanging from the ceiling and most just placed on shelves or any available floor space. Instruments were displayed on the walls alongside swords and bows. The far wall was mostly floor to ceiling bookcases positioned around a window overlooking a back porch, where Courtney could still see the lake shimmering in the distance. The place felt cozy and warm, like a real home. A spiraling staircase to the left of the entrance led upstairs to where Courtney assumed there must be more plants decorating every room. She could see the kitchen from the entryway, filled with the same warmth that the rest of the house had. Somebody was standing in there, working on something frantically. He was running around the kitchen in a frenzy, opening cabinets and closing them just as fast. He was a whirlwind, and Courtney liked that.

"Please, take a seat. We'll explain what's going on, answer any questions you have." Noah said, sliding past Courtney and sitting on one of the many couches in the center of the living room. The boy with the hat sat next to him, and Olivia next to him. Boze stood behind their couch, watching Courtney intensely. Courtney took a seat in the chair across from them, and Wes and the other tall boy sat on the couch next to her chair.

"Shayne! Come over, Courtney's here." The boy with glasses called to the kitchen, and Courtney saw the person, Shayne, whip around, his white shirt covered in different colored powders.

"Be right there!" He cried, trying to wipe the powders from his shirt, but to no avail. He sighed and walked over, leaping over the back of the couch where Wes and the boy who called him over sat, landing next to them. 

Courtney shifted in her seat, trying to figure out which of her million questions to ask first. She opened her mouth to say something, but no sound came out. Wes smiled at her kindly.

"I understand it's a lot to take in, but we're all friends here. Let's meet everybody first, how does that sound?" He asked, tilting his head to the side like a puppy as he awaited her response. She nodded and he began again.

"Great. So, I'm Wes, this is Damien and Shayne," He gestured to the two sitting next to him on the couch. Courtney inferred that the one with dark hair was Damien, and the blonde was Shayne. "And that's Boze, Noah, Keith, and Olivia." The people on the other couch smiled at her, except for Boze, who remained neutral in her expression.

"Okay, nice to meet you all." Courtney began, offering a small smile to the group. She sighed and looked to Wes to ask her first question.

"What do you mean when you say that you're 'special'? Do you mean you have superpowers or something?" Wes smiled at that and shook his head, and he turned to Damien, who began to answer the question.

"In a way, yes. Wes is referring to the fact that all of us, including you, are blessed by these certain deities, chosen to protect the world in a way." That didn't fully negate the superpower argument, but Courtney allowed him to continue.

"Have you heard of the Greek gods? Zeus, Ares, Poseidon, Aphrodite, etcetera?" Courtney nodded, beginning to piece together what Damien was implying. "Well," He continued. "We are all sons and daughters of those Greek gods. They're real, and they still work with humans to protect them and watch over us. They don't come down very often to be with humans and have children, so when it happens, we typically find each other somehow."

Courtney blinked in shock. She couldn't be the daughter of a Greek god. She knew both her parents, and they had died years ago. It sounded crazy, but after what happened to her last night, she was beginning to find that crazy may just be a part of life.

"So, who are your parents?" She asked the group, which Wes offered an answer for.

"I'm a son of Athena, she's the goddess of wisdom. Damien is a son of Hephaestus, god of fire and blacksmiths. Shayne a is son of Hermes, who's the god of literature and messenger of the gods. Boze is the daughter of Hecate, goddess of magic. Noah is the son of Demeter, goddess of harvest and plants. Keith is the son of Apollo, the god of music. And Olivia is the daughter of Aphrodite, goddess of love." 

Courtney looked around at all the people watching her, trying to contemplate how they were all children of Greek gods and goddesses. She couldn't possibly be one of those, could she?

"But, how am I involved in all of this? I knew both of my parents, and they died a few years ago. I'm pretty sure I'm not the kid of some Greek god." Noah spoke up to respond this time.

"That's because you're not. I know last night you met a woman, and she gave you that jacket. I told you I knew who she was, and that's true. Her name is Artemis, and she's the goddess of the moon and hunting. She chose you to join us, because she saw potential in you. It doesn't matter if you're a demigod by blood or by blessing, you are one of us either way."

Courtney's mouth hung open in shock. She had no idea what to say in response to that. She had never been somebody with potential. She wasn't good in school, and she hadn't ever had a job. Hell, she didn't even think she would be alive at this point in her life because she was living on the streets. But now these strangers were telling her that a literal Greek goddess had chosen her to be her child, essentially, and everything seemed like it had been turned upside down.

"You don't have to believe us, but it's the truth. And we'll take care of you as long as you're here. We can explain more if you have more questions." Wes told her, reaching out his arm and placing a hand on her knee. It was comforting, and even though she had no idea what was going on, she believed these people when they told her they would take care of her. They had proven that. 

"Okay. I believe you, it's just... why me? I'm not special in any way. I've done horrible things and I have no real purpose. Why would I be the one that Artemis wants? I'm sure there are better options, if she's choosing." Courtney ran a hand through her hair and gently touched the tattoo at the back of her neck, tracing the design with her fingers like she had done hundreds of times before.

Wes sighed and took his hand off Courtney's knee, looking to the rest of the group before speaking.

"I can't answer _that_ question. We don't know why any of us were the ones that were chosen to take on the responsibility of serving the gods. But what we do know is that we'll do it together. I know you may not feel special, but you are. You just might not know it yet." He paused, chuckling to himself. "And all of us have done something bad here, you're not alone on that front. Why the hell else would we be living in a cabin this far into the woods?" He laughed, and gave Courtney a reassuring look. The others murmured in agreement. Courtney looked around at the people surrounding her, all of them children of mythological gods that she hadn't believed were real until today. There was something special about that, even if it seemed absolutely crazy.

"Thank you." She finally said. "I want to try my best to help you guys however I can, just give me a direction and I'll run." Wes sat up in his seat, a broad smile on his face. 

"That's the spirit!" He took another look at her, thinking for a second. "I'm assuming you want to get cleaned up and settle in. Your room is upstairs, it's the first door on the left. The bathroom is right at the top of the staircase." 

Courtney mouthed a silent thank you to Wes, and headed upstairs to the bathroom, where she took a nice, hot shower for the first time in a while. As she stepped out, she looked at herself in the mirror. She looked tired, even if she didn't feel it. Her dark circles under her eyes were less noticeable than they had been, but they were still there. She could see her ribs poking out against her skin along with her hip bones. Her tattoos stood out against her pale skin, and the touched the one on her left collarbone. It was an arrow, done by the same friend who did the small ones on her arms. Ironic, in a way, that they goddess who had chosen her uses a bow and arrow. Maybe she was meant for it after all, even if the tattoo didn't truly symbolize anything special. Maybe it was fate, but who could truly know?


	2. How It Came To Be - Wes

Wes liked the new girl already.

He remembered when she was first brought up two weeks ago when Boze came out to the backyard as he was practicing his sword technique with Damien. The sounds of metal rang through the clearing, across the lake down below. Wes was covered in sweat, but not nearly as much as Damien, who despite his shirt being mostly damp, continued to block his slashes with ease. 

Wes had mentioned to Damien before how doing martial arts as a kid made him better at fighting by default, but his friend always denied it, downplaying his accomplishments. Damien had a tendency to do that. Wes knew the feeling. He had begun working on his confidence ever since his father had told him about the cabin in the woods, the night he met his mother. The night he was told what his mother had told his father all those years ago, that he would be the start to the renaissance of demigods. To be truthful, it was terrifying to hear, even to this day. But six years had passed since that day, and he had taken in others like him, to lead them in whatever was needed by the gods. 

Boze watched them fight, calmly leaning against the pillar at the top of the porch steps. Wes didn’t pay her much attention, pushing Damien’s sword away with a loud scrape of metal. He saw Damien smile, a kind of intimidating smile that revealed something deeper, more sinister about his friend. Sometimes he would have the smile while working on a weapon repair, or when playing video games. It wasn’t something that Wes was overly concerned about most of the time, but sometimes he would see the smile when Damien was standing alone, a far off look in his eyes. That was when it worried him. He hadn’t mentioned it to his friend yet, but he wasn’t even sure how he would go about it. 

In a swift motion Damien blocked Wes’s slash at him, pushing the sword away, and Wes backwards. He regained his footing and swung his sword again, just barely grazing Damien’s arm. Damien wincedand lowered his sword, looking at the back of his forearm. On his skin was a thin line of red, pooling blood in between the hair on his arms, dripping down towards the ground. Wes watched as a drop of blood landed on the grass below them, seeping into the dirt and disappearing without a trace.

Damien looked up to him, smiling, kinder now. “That was a good practice, man. What is it now, seventeen to twenty one?” His smile turned into more of a shit-eating grin, and Wes shook his head.

“No, you don’t have twenty one, wins,” He paused for a moment, thinking. “Wait, do you?”

Damien just smiled in response, beginning to walk back to the porch. Wes followed him, and that’s when Boze spoke up.

“I don’t get why it has to be so dramatic.” Damien stopped at the bottom steps, Wes next to him. They looked up at Boze, confused as to what she meant.

“It’s so extra. The whole ‘first to draw blood’ thing is overrated anyways. You guys could just fight until you get tired, work on endurance.” Wes smiled at that, looking to Damien, who was doing the same.

“We would be going for days, weeks, even!” Wes looked to Boze, who just rolled her eyes. “This way always ends it faster, so we don’t go insane and actually start trying to hurt each other.” 

“I just don’t get it really. The whole fighting thing. You guys like it so much, but I’d much rather be in the shadows fucking people up than putting myself in harm’s way.”

Wes could understand that. He knew Boze much preferred to work on the outside of things, hiding behind spells and mind tricks in order to sneak the rest of the group into a victory. The last monster they had fought was entertaining to watch as Boze conjured needles into it’s skin that got deeper each time it struggled. It didn’t seem to understand that until the blood was pooling from its wounds and it was lying on the ground, all of its energy gone. Boze was snarky and reserved the majority of the time, but when they fought she became a force to be reckoned with.

“Pushing that aside, I wanted to let you guys know that I think I found another one.” Wes’s eyes widened and he stepped up to the top of the stairs to the same level as Boze, towering over her. She didn’t look up at him, instead she gazed off to the lake, crossing her arms in front of her.

“But Keith only came in a few months ago, how can it be so fast?” Damien asked Boze, who just shrugged. Wes found her nonchalance endearing, in a way. She was never too serious with them, which helped everybody get to know her better.

“I don’t know what it is,” She spoke, eyes scanning the distant water. “But this one’s different. They’re not ready yet, for some reason. I know that they’ll be here, be one of us, but just not now. I’m not sure what it is.”

“Well, do you think you know when they’ll be ready?” Wes asked, leaning on the pillar opposite Boze. He pushed a hand into his right pocket, pressing a small coin into his palm. He could feel the uneven edges and crude carving leaving an imprint on his hand, like it always did. He knew the face of the coin so well that he could tell the owl was facing upwards, towards his wrists. It gave him comfort, knowing the coin so well. It was a good luck charm of sorts, although he didn’t know if it actually had any power to it. He had just found it on the kitchen counter one day, resting on top of a note:  _You will know what to do with this. Good luck_. The handwriting was smooth and straight, all the letters perfectly in line with each other. He didn’t know what it was meant for exactly, but he knew that his mother had sent it. That had been nice to feel, like his mother was helping him out. Most of the others had also received gifts from their godly parents: Shayne found a beautiful leather backpack sitting in the middle of his room with a box of granola bars inside (the backpack seemed to be able to carry anything placed inside it, which came in handy for missions); Damien had schlepped down to his workshop in the basement to find a war hammer laying on his workbench, a Greek  eta carved into its hilt; Olivia woke up one morning with a new necklace around her neck, a simple diamond in the middle in the shape of a heart; Boze found a beautiful crystal outside in the garden one day that radiated power; and Noah had found a poppy plant in his room, sitting on the windowsill. Keith hadn’t received anything yet, but it took time before a parent knew their child was joining up with Wes and his crew.

Boze sighed. “It could be days, or weeks, maybe even months. I really have no idea. I don’t have it all explained to me in simple, easy to follow instructions.” She played with the ends of her hair, looking away from the lake and to her shoes. Her tone was suddenly cold, and Wes knew he had struck a nerve. “It’s like putting together a puzzle that you don’t have the picture for. You can find the edge pieces, but you’re not one hundred percent sure what the final image is going to look like until you get most of it figured out, which is really hard.”

Wes nodded, straightening himself up and stepping towards Boze. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she finally looked up at him, her expression unreadable.

“Thank you, for all you do. Let us know if you find anything else.” She gave him a tight-lipped smile and nodded, heading inside the house quietly. Wes watched her go letting out a sigh.

“She’s okay.” Damien said, clapping Wes on the shoulder. “The magic stuff is hard. It’s all we can do to be there for her when she needs it.” Wes nodded, and he and Damien walked inside the house.

* * *

A week following that discussion with Boze, she appeared in the kitchen, sitting at the counter, watching Wes make a sandwich for himself. He had been surprised when he turned around to see her there. She was silent and moved like a cat, slinking through the house without much noise whenever she decided to leave her room.

“You scared me.” Wes had laughed, holding his hand to his chest. She only smiled slightly, standing up from her seat.

“She’s in San Francisco.” She said, walking over to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water. Wes had been confused for a moment before remembering their conversation the previous week.

“Oh, that’s good. Close enough to drive to without planning for a week-long journey.” Boze smiled fondly at the memory. Keith had been in Ohio when Boze saw him and her, Wes, and Noah had endured the three day drive there and back with almost nothing that could keep them entertained besides the open road or games of ‘I Spy’, which Boze always won. As grueling as it was, Wes had enjoyed the trip, and Keith had made it even more fun on their way back when he cracked jokes or sang along with the radio.

“Yeah. I think it’ll be soon. Something is happening upstairs, if you know what I mean.” Wes glanced up towards the ceiling and felt for the coin in his pocket. Boze always knew when something was happening with the gods. It could be changes in the weather that tipped her off, or something in a vision she had, but her intuition was always right. Wes didn’t fully understand her skillset, all of the magic stuff was lost on him. He just left all the mental fighting to Olivia, Boze, and Shayne. They were all very talented wordsmiths and could convince anybody to believe anything. On April Fool’s last year, Shayne had actually convinced Noah that he was on fire, and Noah had jumped in the lake with all of his clothes on. That had been fun to watch.

“Alright.” Wes looked to Boze again, and she met his eyes, steely expression held strong. “So we know it’s a girl and that she lives in San Fran. Do you have an idea of who she might be the child of?” Boze’s expression clouded over as she broke eye contact with Wes. 

“It’s interesting. She’s different. I can’t see any of the signs I did with the others. It’s more vague, misty.” She shook her head and smiled. “But if I’m right about the small hints I’m getting, and I always am,” Wes chuckled at that. “then she may not be the child of anyone.” Wes lowered his eyebrows for a moment, calculating every possibility before he connected with what Boze was saying.

“You really think it could be Artemis?” He asked. Boze nodded affirmatively. “Well, that’s new.” She smiled at that.

“The gods work in mysterious ways, my friend. They do what they want, and sometimes they want to throw a ninety-five mile an hour curveball at us and see how we react.” Wes barely understood the metaphor, but he was used to that from Boze. She loved her metaphors, weaving words together to allude to something that was harder for her to say than what she was really thinking. She pulled it off well.

“I should be used to that by now,” He joked, and Boze rolled her eyes dramatically.

“Yeah, you should.” She paused and took a bite of his sandwich, placing it back on his plate. “I’ll let you know when it’s time.”

Wes tried to protest her stealing his food, but let her walk up the staircase when he realized it wasn’t worth it. At least Boze was becoming more comfortable, it seemed. That had always been the goal for Wes: to build a family with these people, related by blood or not. And he liked to think he had been pretty successful so far. 

After finishing his lunch, he walked out on the back porch, feeling the heat of summer rush over his skin. He grabbed a sword from the rack on his left and walked down the steps into the yard, where an oldpractice dummy laid on the ground. He picked it up and brushed off the grass, pushing it into the ground so he could let his full strength carry his weapon.

In a matter of two minutes the dummy was destroyed, sand spilling out of it’s body onto the grass. Wes felt the adrenaline rushing through him and he was happy with his work, but a small voice at the back of his head still nagged him from the sidelines.

_You are weak. You need to prove yourself to them, make them fear you. No great leader would let his soldiers tell him what to do_. 

The voice had been there for years, since he was a child. Telling him he was wrong, that he wouldn’t amount to anything. He had ignored it before, but that always made it worse. He let the thoughts play like a worn out cassette, static roaring through his head. When he felt like the thoughts had their way with his mind, he would eject the tape and put in a new one: a happy memory with his friends, watching the sun set over the lake, or sometimes just white noise. Leaving his mind blank was difficult, but the few minutes he could indulge in it were bliss compared to a constant stream of ‘what ifs’ and degrading words.

Wes moved to gather the remnants of the dummy, tossing them into a box by the firepit to use as fuel. He always liked having fires, it reminded him of camping with his brothers before he moved away. He sometimes wished he had stayed in contact, but his work was so important to him that he often ignored their messages until they stopped coming. His dad would call every so often, asking how things were going. They would talk until Wes found an excuse to hang up the phone. He felt weird letting his two lives congeal, so he tried to keep them as separate as possible, even at the risk of losing his birth family. 

But life carried on, and he sat in a rocking chair on the porch, cleaning off his sword and appreciating the smell of summer.

* * *

He was shaken awake early one morning, his room dim as the sun was barely starting to rise. He pried his eyes open to see a dark figure above his bed, standing eerily still. His vision adjusted and he realized it was Boze, dressed in dark clothes and silver bracelets.

“It happened. We’re leaving now.” Wes’s groggy brain didn’t gift him the knowledge as to what she was talking about until she had already began to head towards the door.

“Wait! I’ll come with you.” He began to sit up and pull his covers off, but Boze’s cold gaze stopped him in his tracks.

“It’s fine. Noah, Olivia, and I can handle it.” Her voice was calm, almost sweet. But Wes couldn’t move, and he wasn’t sure if it was just his sleepiness or Boze’s magic.

“I want to go with you.” Boze smiled and shook her head at Wes.

“You do enough. We’ll be back before noon, if everything goes according to plan.” She paused. “If it doesn’t, call me. If I don’t answer...” She looked away from him. “I’ll answer.” She decided, turning away from Wes and walking through the door. He was still motionless as he heard the engine of his old pickup start and fade away into the distance. It took more than ten minutes for him to be able to move again, and when he finally felt his legs regain control, he sprinted downstairs in his pajamas and to the kitchen, rifling through cabinets, drawers, the fridge. 

“You good, man?” A voice asked. Wes turned to see Shayne standing against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest. He was wearing running shorts and sneakers, and his face was red, glistening with sweat.

“Do you have sage or something?” Wes asked, wincing at the panic in his voice. Shayne raised an eyebrow at him.

“No, but Boze probably has some in her r-“ Wes pushed past Shayne and ran upstairs to Boze’s room. The door was locked, but Wes pushed through it with his weight, hearing the lock snap and break. He would have to ask Damien to fix that. 

Boze’s room had changed since Wes had last seen it. It was organized and dimly lit by candles burning throughout the room. It smelled like burning wood and herbs, a strange combination that tickled Wes’s nose. But he went straight to the small alter placed on the far side of the room, covered in crystals and various herbs. A nearby bookshelf was crammed with works of different languages and origins, all relating to some form of magic.

Wes spotted a bundle of sage resting on the left side of the alter and grabbed it, running down the stairs and out the back door to the firepit. He spotted Shayne in his peripheral vision looking at him strangely, but he didn’t care. He reached the basin on top of the pillar behind the pit and placed the bundle inside, lighting a match from underneath the basin and letting the flame dance across the herb.

Wes placed is hands on either side of the basin and kneeled down, his eyes closed and head pointed towards the ground. He spoke quietly and clearly, pushing every ounce of his energy into his prayer.

“ _ωραία Αθηνά, παρακαλώ προστατέψτε την οικογένειά μου καθώς ταξιδεύουν στην πόλη αναζητώντας έναν άλλο πολεμιστή για να υπηρετήσουν τους θεούς. αφήστε τους να επιστρέψουν με ασφάλεια και να αφήσουν το ταξίδι τους αβλαβές. Σας προσφέρω αυτό το κάψιμο με την ελπίδα ότι μπορείτε να βοηθήσετε. Ευχαριστώ_ .”

A wave of calm washed over him as he finished, standing and letting the smoke from the sage envelop him. The sun was rising above the trees, sprinkling light onto the dewy grass. Wes breathed in the fresh air around him. He put out the sage with his fingertips, only feeling their warmth as the smoke began to fade away. He knew his friends would be safe now, and that’s all that mattered.

* * *

Wes sat with Damien and Keith on the porch, awaiting the return of what Keith had jokingly called ‘the extraction party’. The day had progressed like any other, but the voice at the back of his head still pooled doubts into his consciousness. Wes pushed the thoughts aside in favor of discussing what the new girl may be like, how she would fit in. After Wes had performed the protection ritual, he had rounded up the remaining people in the house: Shayne, Keith, and Damien, to help him set up the room for her. When Boze mentioned a few days ago that the girl would be arriving relatively soon, he had taken Shayne into the nearby town to get some essentials for her.

Her bedsheets were simply grey and white, her pillowcases black. Shayne had found some silver pieces to work as “accents” to the room, and Wes didn’t have the knowledge of design to protest as Shayne placed them in the cart. The clothes were simple too, black and white shirts in a variety of sizes, simple blue jeans, and Shayne had taken on the challenge of getting bras and underwear. Wes was thankful, because the last time a girl had arrived it had been Olivia, and he was the one who went shopping for her clothes. Needless to say, she went into town on her own the following day and got some things that she actually liked.

As they paid and left the store and began piling the bags into the bed of the pickup truck, Shayne threw in a few more items that Wes hadn’t seen before. He looked to Shayne, already knowing what had happened. Shayne looked back and smiled shyly, shrugging his shoulders and walking to the passenger door.

“My father is also the god of thieves, you know.” Wes scoffed and stepped up into the driver’s seat, choosing to ignore Shayne’s comment until they were driving down the dirt driveway that led to their home.

“I know you’re used to it, but please don’t just take stuff without asking. We’re trying to help people, not rob them.” Shayne said nothing, looking out the window at the passing trees.

Wes thought back to that moment as he sat listening to Damien and Keith bounce ideas off of each other, discussing how the girl would act, how she would contribute to the group. Wes’s phone buzzed in his pocket, revealing a text from Boze.

_Her name is Courtney. In the driveway now. See you in 10._

Wes replied with a simple O.K., looking down the driveway as he waited for the pickup’s engine to grow louder, showing his friends with the new girl safe and sound. 

He contributed some of his thoughts about her to Damien and Keith, telling them about how Boze believed she could’ve been chosen by Artemis, which Keith beamed at.

“Sick! So she’s like, my cousin or somethin’?” 

“We’re all technically cousins, Keith.” Damien replied, his voice monotone but a small smile on his face. 

“I know, but this is closer. Artemis and Apollo are twins. She’s like, legit my cousin. I think that’s cool.” He leaned back in the chair, and the sound of tires rolling across gravel brought their eyes to the opening of the clearing. 

Wes stood, walking towards the the stairs as Noah parked the car and the group got out. Wes gave Noah a quick hug and nodded to Boze before letting his eyes settle on the new girl. She looked like Hell, honestly. 

Her hair was choppy and matted except for the shaved side of her head. Her face was covered in small scratchesand acne scars. Her eyes were intimidating, with large half moons carved underneath, showing years of unrest and lack of sleep. Her clothes were baggy and dirty. Her jeans had holes in them from wear and they looked like they didn’t fit her right. Her boots were coming apart from the sole and also looked to be the wrong size. Her jacket stood out though; a simple black leather that fit comfortably around her body. 

Wes could feel her anger, her sadness, her pain, radiating off her in waves. She had been broken down before and she was expecting it again. He saw her eyes widen as she looked around the clearing, taking in her new surroundings. Wes smiled at her as she turned back, reaching out his hand. 

“Hey, I’m Wes. You must be Courtney.”

* * *

When Courtney came down from her shower, she had gotten dressed into some of the clothes that Wes and Shayne had bought in anticipation of her arrival, but she still wore her jacket. Wes was sitting on a couch in the living room, pouring himself over a map of the forest that he had been working on since he arrived, marking places where they had defeated monsters or where they could find resources. 

Courtney stood at the base of the stairs, holding herself like she was cold. Wes looked up and smiled, leaving his map on the coffee table and walking over to her.

“How do you like the room?”

She didn’t look at him. Instead, she stared at his feet as she responded.

“It’s great. I haven’t had my own room in a long time.” She trailed off and looked away from Wes’s feet to the window, the dark circles underneath her eyes becoming more prominent as she turned her head. 

“That’s good.” Wes said. “Let us know if you need anything else. We’re here to make you as comfortable as possible.” She turned to face Wes, her eyes shining. She nodded solemnly, and Wes offered her a sympathetic smile. He could understand how she was feeling. It was shocking to learn something so new about yourself and be taken from somewhere you had considered home. 

“And if you have any other questions, please feel free to ask any of us. We know it’s confusing, and we want to help you understand as much as possible.”

Wes watched as Courtney blinked a tear from her eye, letting it stream down her face. It was hard not to feel his heart ache for her. Boze had let him know a little bit about her past since she had arrived, and not much of it had been great. Her parents had died a few years back and she had been living on the streets for just as long. Courtney nodded before walking up the staircase, disappearing into the second floor. 

Wes sighed as he returned to the map, letting his mind worry about the girl he had just taken in. He didn’t want her to be scared of anything here. He needed something to bring her in, show her that she would be safe. He could almost feel the light turn on in his head as he traced over the lines of the map. He bolted up and rushed to the stairs that led into Damien’s workshop (colloquially known as the basement). 

Damien was sketching something at his workbench in the dim light from the edison bulbs that hung from the ceiling. Even though Wes had offered to spruce up the place, Damien had refused, insisting that he liked the darkness. It apparently helped him concentrate. 

“Damien.” His friend looked up, surprised to see Wes in his workplace. Wes, admittedly, didn’t like coming down to the basement often. It gave him the creeps.

“I have a project for you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! well, here’s chapter two! since staring this i changed the structure of it a bit, so i’ll be switching between a few different character’s perspectives. 
> 
> also, what Wes said in greek was (roughly) “Great Athena, please protect my family as they travel to the city looking for another warrior to serve the gods. Let them return safely and leave their journey unscathed. I offer you this burning in the hope that you can help. Thank you.” i used google translate so it’s probably not 100% accurate but i can scrape by.
> 
> anyways, i hope you enjoyed this chapter and are enjoying the story as a whole. i look forward to seeing how it’ll turn out, and feedback is always appreciated. thanks for reading!


	3. Flames Ignite - Damien

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello there! i've finished up the planning for the main introduction to the story so hopefully more updates will be coming sooner and at a regular pace. thank you for all the lovely comments, they really encourage me to keep writing and they're so sweet. please enjoy and leave a comment if you'd like! thanks :)

Damien was actually excited about the project. 

When Wes had suggested it, he had already been imagining how he could create something suited for Courtney. Something to showcase her abilities and honor her lineage, even if she wasn’t directly related to Artemis by blood. The project also gave Damien an excuse to stay in his workshop for longer than he did usually. The basement felt more welcoming than his room, which was often empty and cold comparatively. The burning furnaces cast a warm orange glow on the room, a comforting embrace in the face of insecurities and internal doubts. 

It was easier to hide away in the basement to hone his craft, he was the son of Hephaestus after all, he should be working on the group’s weapons and repairing anything that needed to be fixed. He rarely left his ‘cave’, as Shayne called it, only coming up for meals or when he couldn’t justify the sheer number of hours he had been without human contact. He did like his friends, they were his family after all. But it was often hard to understand them. It was much simpler to work on a new project, because he could figure out how that worked faster than any of the people he lived with. 

Of course, he had been worse when he initially arrived, almost four years ago now. He had locked himself in his room and let his body take over control of his actions. The shakes and sweating were constant, par for the course of his life in retrospect. His anxiety had been becoming increasingly worse in the time before he realized who his father was. Almost every night he would lie in bed, whether his or not, with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Cold sweat would sink into the sheets around him, and it became easier to stay awake than try to suppress the virus eating away at his sanity. 

He pushed away the memory, feeling his pulse began to quicken as he sketched out a quick thumbnail of the design. He could see the measurements in his head, the materials he would need appearing in a small shopping list at the back of his mind. He rose from his desk and began searching the meticulously organized cabinets that spanned the nearby wall. Labels were burned into the wood in simple, straight handwriting, which had taken hours to get perfect. It was infuriating at first, as every time Damien made a mistake he would discard the entire piece of wood, but once he began to take his time he was able to complete the task faster than he originally had planned for. 

He grabbed a long pole of hickory from its place in the cabinet and moved to his toolbox to grab a carving knife. He slipped the knife into his pocket and moved towards the buzzsaw, carefully measuring the appropriate length before making the cut. He moved back towards his workbench and began to trace the planned shape of the weapon into the wood with a pencil, and soon began to chip away at the wood fibers. 

Hours could have passed before he noticed that Shayne was standing in the doorway, looking to him with a small smile. His presence shocked Damien, and the knife slipped from his hands and onto the bench below him with a soft _thud_.

“Sorry I scared you.” Shayne said, stepping forward to stand next to Damien’s workbench, leaning his hand onto the surface nonchalantly. Damien resisted the urge to swat at his friend’s hand as it rested on his space. He didn’t like it when other people touched his work, especially when he hadn’t even invited them into his workshop. But he didn’t want to scare Shayne off. He was a good friend, even if he had trouble with boundaries sometimes. So he just laid the unfinished project on the table and looked to his friend with a calm facade.

“It’s fine.” He lied. He reached down to grab the knife he had dropped and placed it next to the piece of wood. “What brings you down here?” 

Shayne smiled kindly, his eyes shimmering in the low light of the furnace that burned in the corner. The structure of his face was accentuated by the dimness, causing his cheeks to look sharper, his nose more prominent than in sunlight. Damien ignored the flutter in his stomach as he looked to his friend, pretending his interest in the bone structure of his face was purely from an analytical point of view. It made much more sense than any alternative.

“We were going to have a fire tonight, to welcome Courtney officially, y’know?” Damien nodded, watching his friend remove his hand from the table to shove into his pocket. A portion of his anxiety was relieved by that, and he continued to watch Shayne as he spoke.

“I - _We_ would really appreciate it if you left your bat cave for a few hours. Hang out with friends, play with fire, watch the stars and talk. It’ll be nice.” Damien slightly smiled as he imagined himself among his friends, taking in the cool air from the night into his lungs, Shayne and Wes at his side by the fire. The stars sparkling above them, Shayne pointing out the different constellations and telling their stories to the group, even though it felt like it was just for Damien. The peaceful lapping of the water on the shore and against the supports of the dock. It was calm. Peaceful. Something that could become a pleasant memory in the future. 

His mind drifted back to the project sitting in front of him. His eyes pulled away from Shayne to the unfinished work on his desk. Normally he wouldn’t stop work on a project unless absolutely necessary, but Shayne had a way with convincing him that he couldn’t easily refuse. 

“I’ll think about it.” He felt Shayne’s smile drop as he spoke. “I want to finish this before I lose my concentration.” That was a lie, he had never lost his concentration on a project. That’s why he was so efficient in finishing them. But he couldn’t just give in to Shayne’s offer, it didn’t feel right for some reason. Maybe it was just something wrong with him.

“Okay,” Shayne said, some of the bravado that normally punctuated his voice lost. Damien felt a pang of guilt, but pushed it aside as Shayne continued. “So, what is this that you’re working on anyways?”

“Oh. Uh, Wes asked me to make something for Courtney. Something to welcome her, make her feel like part of the family. So I’m making a bow. I thought it would be the most fitting - Artemis, bow.” Shayne looked at him closely, leaning in to what Damien was saying. He didn’t speak, just nodded as an invitation for his friend to continue.

“Well, I’m thinking of a longbow, because they’re good for hunting and powerful enough in battle. I mean, there’s helicopters and sniper rifles named after the things, so they should be pretty good.” Damien could see Shayne was smiling at him and felt the flutter in his stomach return.

“I’m probably going to put in a leather hand grip, since I don’t know if she’s ever shot before. It’ll help get her used to it. I have some string left over from when I was repairing Noah’s bow, so that’ll be good.”

“How long is this going to take you? It sounds like a lot of work.” Shayne’s voice was soft, running over Damien like a breeze. A tingle went up his spine, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He tried to ignore it as he made eye contact with Shayne.

“It probably won’t take that long, honestly. Maybe a few more hours, if I keep working now.” Damien saw a glint of something in Shayne’s eye as he said that, and a feeling of tension began to rise in his chest.

“We were planning on having the fire once it gets dark out, so that would be a few hours from now. You could probably finish the bow and still come to the fire.” Shayne’s eyes brightened again. “You could give it to Courtney there! That would be a great way to welcome her!”

Damien silently cursed as his only real prohibitor to attending the fire was cast aside by his friend. Of course, his prediction of the night was pleasant, so he shouldn’t have been so apprehensive of the whole situation. But being apprehensive was in his nature, he guessed, and so he flashed a small smile to Shayne.

“That works.” He checked his watch. _3:19 P.M_. He could easily get the bow done before dark. Damnit.

Shayne straightened up suddenly, shifting his weight between his feet for a moment. “So… I’ll leave you to that.” He moved towards the door of the workshop, turning as his hand rested on the doorknob. 

“See you tonight.”

“See ya.” The door latched quietly, the sound of Shayne’s footsteps fading away as he walked up the stairs. Damien returned to carving the bow, trying to ignore the warmth he felt in his chest. It must’ve been the furnace. 

* * *

The bow was finished at 7:49 P.M. Damien had just polished the wood and set it on the smooth grey fabric that laid across his workbench. He wrapped the cloth around the bow gingerly and tied the ends off with thin strips of leather. He was satisfied with his work. The bow was gorgeous, the warm color of the wood contrasted by the dark leather grip. It was a sturdy bow, large - at almost five feet tall standing up. He hoped that Courtney would be able to shoot it comfortably.

He held the bow in his arms as he walked up the stairs to the main part of the cabin. Wes was sitting on a couch in the living room, hunched over his map. He didn’t look up as Damien made his way over to the back window, searching for signs of people beginning to light the fire. The sun was starting to set, a warm orange glow streaming through the treeline. The sky was painted in pink and purple, the clouds dark against the pastel colors. The lake was shimmering with a layer of golden light, a thin veil of steam hanging above the water. Damien could see Noah and Shayne messing around the firepit, with Oliva and Boze stood in the corner talking amongst themselves. Noah was carrying a bottle of lighter fluid and dumping it on top of a large pile of wood stacked in the center of the pit. Damien watched as Shayne took out a matchbook from his pocket and lit one.

The next few moments happened in slow motion for Damien: he leaned the bow up against the doorway and charged outside towards the firepit as Shayne dropped the match onto the wood. The fire caught quickly and exploded with heat that Damien felt on his cheeks as he pushed Shayne out of the way and onto the ground. He felt the heat against his back as he knelt over his friend, shielding him from the kickback of the flames. Shayne turned and looked up at him, clearly confused, but his expression shifted to something softer, a small smile on his face. Damien didn’t understand the sudden change, but for a second he worried that the warmth he felt meant the fire had caught onto his skin.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” He said to Shayne. His friend laughed and pushed himself onto his elbows, still looking at Damien with soft eyes.

“That’s why you should be the one starting the fires, not me.” Damien rolled his eyes and offered a hand to his friend, pulling him up so they were both standing. The fire was roaring, the initial danger that the massive amount of lighter fluid had presented was gone now, and wood was catching fire.

“You’re right,” Damien looked back to his friend, who was still smirking at him. “I should be lighting the fires. So you’re never allowed to touch one again. I hereby decree it.”

Shayne feigned offense, holding his hand to his heart with his mouth hanging open. He was clearly trying to stifle a smile. “How dare you! I’m telling Wes about your cruel and unusual punishment!”

Damien felt the corners of his mouth turn up as he looked at Shayne pouting at him. “Do it, he was going to find out anyway.” Damien pointed a finger at Shayne’s chest. “And he was going to agree that you’re banned from fire setting forever.”

Almost as if on cue, Wes walked down the steps of the porch and began to make his way over to the group. “What’s going on guys- woah.” He stopped for a moment, staring at the pile of burning logs that came up to his waist resting in the firepit. “That’s a big fire.”

“You can thank Damien.” Shayne said. Damien whipped around to him, shocked. Shayne smiled innocently back at him, and Damien returned to look at Wes.

“That’s not - no, I- Noah and Shayne thought it would be a good idea to pour a goddamn _gallon_ of lighter fluid onto this shit and then light it. The whole thing almost exploded!”

Wes considered that for a moment, looking around to everybody. “Is anybody hurt?”

“No. But-”

“Then just make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Damein threw his hands up as Wes calmly observed the situation. He knew Shayne was looking at him with that shit-eating grin he had, and he smiled despite his annoyance. 

“Now let’s get everything ready for dinner.”

* * *

The fire was roaring, the light that emanated from it casting harsh shadows across the faces of those sitting in a circle around it. The night was lively, people were talking and laughing and eating food that Wes and Shayne had cooked on the grill. It was nice. The warmth of the fire, the feeling of community, the discussions they had. Damien was enjoying it, just as he knew he would. He mentally berated himself for trying to weasel out of going. Why did he think everything would end badly somehow? What was wrong with him?

Damien cast aside the thought as he looked around at his friends enjoying themselves. Shayne was sitting to his left, talking with Courtney, Wes, and Noah about something that Damien wasn’t really paying attention to. Something about how demigods came to be? Maybe a brief history of demigod stories? He didn’t really pay it any mind. 

In his peripheral vision he saw a shadow move at his right, a figure standing next to him, the light of the fire too far away to illuminate them. 

“Hello Boze.” His friend stepped forward, her dark clothes becoming tinged with orange in the glow of the flames. He hadn’t seen where she had run off to following the lighting of the fire, and was happy to see her returned.

“Damien.” She said quietly, taking a seat next to him. “How are you doing?” 

Damien knew it sounded like a simple question, a requirement of politeness. But he also knew Boze was never just asking something to be polite. She always had a hidden motive, something more that she was getting at. Something deeper.

“I’m doing alright.” He said. It wasn’t a lie, he was enjoying the night. He liked the warmth of the fire on his face, he liked the food and conversation he shared with his friends. But Boze could always read him too well. It may have been a form of clairvoyance that she had, Damien wouldn’t put it past her to directly read his thoughts. It was a sort of half joke-half truth that the group shared: Boze was psychic. She never clarified whether they were correct or not, so most of the time they were left guessing if her interpersonal intuition was just talent or something more.

“Good.” She said, lowering her voice more. “How are you doing otherwise?” Damien winced at the question. He knew what was coming, she had been asking him the same question for years. He had tried to tell her it was fine, he was okay, but every time she wouldn’t believe him.

“I’m fine.” He said, deadpan. He didn’t allow her to propose a counter argument. “I’ve been fine for three years. You of all people should know that.” He met her eyes, her expression cold.

“I know what it’s like. And you may think you’re fine, but one day something hits you hard and it all comes crashing down. Relapse sucks.” She looked to the ground, her voice growing quieter. “I don’t want you to go through that.” 

Her sentiment was touching to Damien, as agitating as her method of expressing it was. He had been clean for three years with the help of Boze and Wes, and even in his darkest moments he hadn’t gone back. He buried himself in his work instead of blurring out the world around him with a handful of pills. He was doing better, and he knew Boze was just looking out for him. But he didn’t want her to worry so much about him. He could take care of himself. 

He felt a hand on his forearm and flinched, turning to see Shayne looking at him kindly. “Do you have the thing?” It took a moment for the connection to establish itself in his mind. Courtney and Wes were looking at him expectantly, and it all suddenly clicked.

“Yeah, I’ll be right back.” He jogged to the back door of the cabin and grabbed Courtney’s bow, carrying it carefully back to the fire in his arms. He saw Courtney’s eyes widen as he approached and presented the gift to her.

The others quieted as she untied the leather strips from the ends and slowly unveiled the bow. Her eyes grew another size and she covered her mouth with her hands as she looked down at the bow laying in her lap. 

“Wes asked me to make you a bow so you could feel like a member of the group. I thought it would make the most sense because Artemis hunts with a bow.” Damien said, the crackling of the fire the only other sound as he spoke. Courtney let her hands fall over the bow, running her hands across the wood with amazement. Damien allowed a small smile to creep across his face as he looked at her admiring the bow. It always felt good when people appreciated his work.

She looked up to him after a moment, her eyes shining from the light of the fire. “Thank you.” Damien nodded in response and took his seat back next to Shayne, who slung his arm around his shoulder and pulled him close for a second before letting his hand slide down his back and return to his own lap. The place where Shayne had touched him was tingling, like his skin had just been electrified (and he knew what that felt like). He met his friend’s eyes and saw Shayne smile at him sweetly, and he couldn’t help but smile back. 

The moment ended when he heard Courtney ask a question to the group: “How do you guys _do_ all of this?” She ran her hand over the bow again gestured to the clearing with her other arm. “This is incredible. How do you do it?”

“Well,” Wes began a story that Damien had heard at least six times by now. How all of this came to be. It was still an interesting story, no matter how many times he had heard it before.

“My dad bought this land after he met my mother and I was born. She had told him that I would be the first demigod of a new generation and that I needed somewhere to keep them safe. My dad was thankfully able to buy this place without raising too many questions from anybody around him. After I turned eighteen he told me everything - how my mom was Athena, how all the gods were real, how I was going to lead them to victory or whatever. Honestly, it was terrifying.” The others laughed at that. Everybody knew the feeling. There was no calm way that you could figure out you were a demigod. It was either incredibly dramatic and emotional or something that was entirely too crazy for you to comprehend. There was no middle ground, unfortunately. 

“Amen to that.” Shayne said, sitting up straighter as he began his own story. Damien had heard this one just as many times as Wes’s, but this was far more entertaining for some reason. Maybe it was the way Shayne told it, with his massive gesticulations and dramatic pauses for effect. Damien always enjoyed listening to him tell stories, even if they were just about what happened when he went to the grocery store.

“My mom told me when she was drunk one night at our apartment in Venice. Which of course, was a red flag to me anyways, since clearly she’s just drunk and spewing bullshit to her kid because she had nowhere else to turn.” Damien chuckled to himself, leaning in to what Shayne was saying, taking in his expressions in the light of the fire. His features were deeper, more drastic, just as they were down in his workshop. He looked happy, but the shadows on his face twisted his smile into a mischievous grin. 

“But she just kept going on and on for _hours_. I started to realize around the two hour mark of her graphically describing her rockin’ sex life with my dad that she wasn’t fucking with me, and that’s when I started freaking out. I called the cops and was like ‘hey, my mom’s going crazy please come get her’ and then only one cop came in. He was like my height, and he had the same color hair as me, and his eyes looked like mine, and then everything clicked: this was my dad.” 

Damien loved seeing the shock that appeared on Courtney’s face when Shayne said that. It had happened to everybody who he’d told the story to. His experience was unique among them because he had actually met his father and had him explain everything that was going on. Damien envied him a bit because of it, but he was just happy that his friend had been able to experience a connection with his father. He hadn’t been so lucky.

“That’s crazy.” Courtney said. She and Shayne shared a moment of eye contact, warm even in comparison to the fire. Damien felt a bolt of jealousy strike him and leave his face hot. He ignored the thoughts racing through his head in favor of looking at Shayne.

Courtney directed her gaze to Wes. “But how do you keep up all of this? How do you pay for it all?”

Wes smiled at her softly, looking around at everyone. “My dad gave me some money to start off with when I first came here, and then I started working some jobs to bring in more money and be able to do stuff that would help keep the place maintained. When everybody started coming in we all started doing different odd jobs and working part time to pay for anything we needed. Normally a few of us are always working in town or doing something to help us keep ourselves together. I think we’ve developed a pretty good system, if I do say so myself."

Courtney nodded, her eyebrows scrunching together, clearly thinking. “But what exactly do you guys do?” She looked around the fire, briefly meeting Damien’s eyes. “Like, why do you have all of this? Are you fighting someone, just hanging out with each other for fun? If the gods had you because they needed you, what are you needed _for_?”

Damien watched Wes squirm under the question. He’d been asked it before, by everybody who had arrived at the cabin sometime or another. Damien had asked it before even introducing himself. And Wes always said the same thing:

“We don’t know what we’re gearing up for. It’s been six years and I still don’t know why we fight the monsters that come across our path or keep ourselves in the woods. But I know that we’ve been preparing for something big because the gods need us to help them. And I that’s all I can say.” Damien watched Courtney’s eyes drop to the ground, her shoulders slouched. He had felt the same way when Wes told him he didn’t know what they were fighting for exactly. It had planted a seed of cynicism in him that had continued to grow with each beast they defeated, the existential question about their purpose eating at the back of his mind for years.

The group sat in awkward silence for a moment, the popping of the fire becoming white noise in the background. 

“Hey,” Shayne said, standing up. “Let me show you guys some constellations.” He turned to Courtney. “There’s a few with stories connected to Artemis that are fun to hear.” 

Courtney looked up at him and smiled softly, rising with him. Damien stood too, following Shayne as he walked towards the lake and stepped onto the dock. The water was lapping at the shore quietly in a calming rhythm, two beats at a time. It sounded like a heartbeat.

Shayne sat at the end of the dock and looked back, smiling at the group. He looked at Damien and his smile grew warmer, and even though he was far from the fire, Damien felt that warmth spread across his chest.

He sat next to Shayne, their shoulders grazing the other’s as they moved. Shayne pointed to the stars above them, tracing the design of the constellation with his finger.

“Those stars there, the big one and the bright one? That’s Orion. Some stories differ but generally he was known as the son of Poseidon. He was a great hunter and hunted with Artemis and her hunters, and they worked really well together. Artemis and him were good friends, but some people thought that they may have been more than friends, which included Apollo. So he got pissed and killed him, and Artemis got pissed at him and drew him in the stars to remember him.” 

Damien looked at Shayne, who was looking back at him, the stars reflected in his eyes. He felt something in his chest, a feeling. Something new. He liked the feeling. Maybe something was changing, something for the better. 

At least, he hoped it was.


	4. Revelation - Courtney

Courtney woke up in a pile of blankets, the side of her face pressed into a soft pillow. Sunlight streamed in through the sheer curtains covering the window and lit the room in soft light. Courtney noticed that she was still wearing her clothes from the night before, although her leather jacket was tossed carelessly onto a dresser underneath the window. She sat up on the bed and examined the room, taking in the details of the space.

Her sheets were light grey cotton, soft against her skin. The bed was piled with monochrome pillows and blankets that surrounded her in a makeshift cocoon of fabric. A dark wooden dresser sat underneath the large window overlooking the backyard of the cabin, an aloe plant in a silver pot basking in the sunlight. A small desk sat on the opposite side of the room, a dark wood chair tucked underneath. The room was cozy, comfortable. It felt like a hotel room that Courtney was staying in, as she wasn’t used to the fact that it was actually her room. She hadn’t had her own place in over two years, after Jonathan had kicked her out of their apartment. She scowled at the memory. Jon had always been a dick, and looking back she didn’t understand what she had seen in him. Maybe it was her seventeen year-old naivety, or maybe the fact that she had been so desperate to find somewhere to go after her parents passed. She brushed the memory aside as she gazed out the window to the tall pine trees that encircled the clearing. 

Although when she arrived she had been apprehensive and downright confused about the entire situation that she had found herself in, last night had shown her how welcoming these people were. She was grateful for the effort they put into making her feel comfortable in such a strange circumstance. The fire had been really sweet, and she enjoyed getting to talk to and get to know the others. It had taken all her willpower not to cry when Damien gave her the bow he had made for her, it had been such a sweet gesture. She had already felt so accepted and welcomed by the group and the gift had just reinforced that. It had proven that all of this was real, that they were in this together. That she was one of them. Even if she was still confused about a lot of things, she knew that they were good people.

She made her way downstairs quietly and smelled something sweet (vanilla, maybe?). When she reached the bottom of the staircase she could see Wes in the kitchen holding a bag of flour and a book in the other hand. His eyebrows furrowed together as he studied the book, which made Courtney smile. Wes sighed and put the flour and book down on the counter, wiping his hands on his pants before turning to see Courtney looking at him. 

“Good morning!” He smiled, then quickly checked the clock on the oven. “Afternoon, actually. You must’ve slept well.” 

Courtney nodded. She probably hadn’t slept that well in years. Even if the bed was cheap, she wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. Sleeping on that bed felt like sleeping in a cloud. 

“That’s good.” He gestured to the mess of flour and miscellaneous baking ingredients. “I’m trying to make some cookies for everybody, along with the ones I’m supposed to be making for a bake sale that the town’s daycare is having. I don’t know how _I_ got roped into it, but it’s clearly going great.” He laughed and looked down at his clothes, which were covered in flour.

Courtney smiled. “You guys really are involved with the town a lot.” Wes shrugged.

“Yeah. Almost everybody works in town a few times a week. Noah, Oliva, and Shayne are at the daycare center right now. They love the kids.” He smiled, clearly proud.

“That’s sweet.” Courtney said. She walked over to the kitchen to survey the scene up close. A bag of chocolate chips was torn open and a quarter eaten. Clearly somebody had a sweet tooth.

“Have you baked before?” Wes asked, and Courtney could hear the hope in his voice. She couldn’t help but smile as she looked at him, his eyes pleading for help.

“The only things I’ve ever baked haven’t been meant for kids...” She laughed awkwardly. Wes laughed, but it was genuine.

“Don’t worry, you’re not alone there. I told you, we’ve all gotten into some trouble before. But are you willing to get flour all over you to make sure I don’t totally screw these up?” 

Courtney thought for a moment, back to the fire last night. Then she got an idea.

“Yeah,” she said. Wes almost jumped for joy.

“But,” She started. “You need to show me how to use that bow.”

Wes smiled and stuck out his hand. “Deal.” Courtney shook it, and they got to work.

* * *

Baking cookies shouldn’t have taken almost two hours, but Wes really seemed to have no idea what he was doing. He insisted to Courtney that he was better with plain cooking, but she found that hard to believe when he couldn’t figure out what brown sugar was. Courtney tried her best to help him through his struggle and as hard as it was, they managed to get three sheets of cookies in the oven and not completely destroy the kitchen. 

She knew Wes was nice, but she didn’t truly understand his kindness until that moment. He was doing so much for others, doing so much for the people of the town. He was definitely one of the nicest people she had ever met, which stood out like a lighthouse in a storm in comparison to most of the other people she knew. He reminded her of her brother in how he acted for others. She felt a pull in her heart as she thought of her siblings. 

“Courtney?” She snapped her head up to look at Wes, who was standing in front of her with his own bow strung across him, holding a quiver of arrows.

“Yeah, sorry.” She took an arrow and examined it. She attempted to put it into her bow, but she was pulling most of what she did out of her ass.

“Here, like this.” Wes guided her hand as she held the arrow to the proper position, then helped her lift the bow and hold the arrow in place.

“Okay, now plant your feet like this,” He nudged her feet with his own into the proper place. “And keep your hips centered.”

Courtney could feel the tension in the string as she pulled the arrow back towards her cheek. Wes stood next to her, holding onto the bow just above her hand, his other hand on her shoulder. Normally she would’ve shrugged him off, but at the very least she knew that his intentions were pure. With random guys on the street, it wasn’t so easy to tell.

“Now make sure you keep your elbow level to the ground, or your aim will get messed up.” Wes checked her elbow to make sure it was level.

“Aim for that tree and just go for it. It’s okay if you miss.”

Courtney took a deep breath and focused on the tree. She released the arrow and felt the wind rush past her face and arm, and a sharp sting ran across the inside of her left forearm. She heard a _thunk_ into what she assumed was the bark of the tree, but she didn’t look up. She just held her arm as an angry red line began to form.

“You hit it! Great job!” Wes smiled at her, but quickly noticed the grimace on her face. He slapped a hand against the side of his head and looked up at the sky in frustration.

“I’m sorry, I totally forgot about arm guards.” He said. “Are you okay?”

Courtney rubbed her arm and winced. “Yeah. It just stings.”

Wes started to head over to the stairs of the back porch. “I’ll get some bandages for you now and ask Damien about making you some guards. That probably won’t take long. Be right back.”

Courtney nodded. She heard the door close and she looked up at the tree to see the arrow lodged firmly in the center of the trunk, directly in front of her.

* * *

After wrapping her arm, Courtney got the hang of archery pretty quickly. She attributed most of it to sheer luck and maybe a bit of help from Artemis, but Wes insisted that it was all her own talent. She took the compliment begrudgingly, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy shooting. It also helped that Wes was a great teacher. He knew how to challenge her as she showed greater understanding of a concept and was always encouraging. Courtney was feeling great about herself for the first time in a while when Wes finally told her to quit it. She was sweating from the summer sun and the running that Wes had her do while holding the bow, but she smiled as she sat on the back porch steps, drinking a glass of water Wes had gotten for her.

Wes took a seat next to her with his own water. He looked out at the lake as he drank, a small smile on his face. He turned to her after a few minutes of listening to the sound of cicadas buzzing in the trees and birds chirping from around the clearing.

“That was good. You’re a natural.”

Courtney said nothing, just smiled at her feet. Wes continued to look out at the landscape and breathed in the air, letting out a happy sigh.

“Thank you.” She said quietly, just loud enough for Wes to hear. She felt him turn towards her.

“You don’t have to thank me. I want you to feel at home here.” Courtney looked up at him.

“But I want to say thank you. For everything you’ve done for me since I got here. I feel really good, so I wanted to let you know.” Wes smiled softly.

“Alright. That’s fair.” He said. He paused for a moment. “We didn’t actually tell you what we really do when we’re not working, did we?”

Courtney raised an eyebrow at him. She didn’t know what Wes was referring to when he meant ‘what we really do’, but all of the worst scenarios she could picture ran through her head. Wes hadn’t been shy about their shady pasts, but could they really be hiding something more sinister underneath the facade of good humanitarianism. 

“What… _do_ you guys do then?” 

Wes leaned back on his hands and looked to the sky, thinking. Courtney could see the gears turning in his head, which only validated her worried thoughts.

“So you know that the Greek gods are real. They interact with humans and are basically controlling most of what happens in the world. At least that’s how we understand it.” He glanced at Courtney to see if she was following. She nodded for him to continue. Her theory about the group doing secret back-alley murders or drug deals had began to take a backseat to the confusion that was developing in her head. She didn’t know where Wes was going with this train of thought. 

“Well, because those gods are real, the myths and stories that are associated with them are also real. And that means people like Heracles, Perseus, Theseus, all those heroes, they’re real too. And that also means the monsters they battled were real as well.” Courtney began to understand what Wes was implying now, but it was difficult to believe. Of course, the ancient Greek gods being real was also difficult to believe at first.

“I don’t know why, but the monsters from those myths have been coming back more and more. I didn’t really notice until after I moved out here, but since then I haven’t been able to avoid it. Some of the more humanoid ones try to adjust to the times and blend in, if they have any form of a conscious. But mostly they hide in forests or other rural areas and wreak havoc wherever they can. Because we’re the descendants of those heroes, we’re the ones that have to find them and stop them before they begin to hurt too many people.”

Courtney sat there, thinking. She could barely fathom what one of those Greek monsters would look like right in front of her. She had only heard vague descriptions of what they were and couldn’t actually picture what they would be like. Wes and the others though, they had seen these monsters up close. They had seen these myths come to life and had created their own. Courtney could barely fathom it.

“That’s crazy...” Courtney trailed off. Wes nodded.

“I know. It’s still hard for me to think about sometimes. But we do what we do to protect innocent people. Even if it does sound absolutely insane.”

“How do you find them? How do you take them down?” Courtney found herself asking. Her initial shock had passed and an intense curiosity had begun to take hold of her.

Wes sighed, leaning his head onto his hand. His eyebrows came together to show he was thinking about his answer, trying to formulate the perfect response. 

“Well, most people can’t see the monsters for what they truly are. It’s sort of like a veil over their eyes that prevents them from knowing the truth. I don’t know how it works entirely, but Boze and Shayne are really good at explaining it.” He paused. “But when we start to hear news reports about a ‘bear’ or a ‘mountain lion’ that broke into some store or house, we kind of know that something else is going on. Once we find where it is, we send out a few people to go check it out and determine how many people we need to take it down. It used to be easier, but now we need almost everybody whenever we go out because the monsters just keep getting bigger.”

“Do you all fight?” Courtney asked. After meeting the group of demigods, she could easily see a few of them in a fight. The others, not so much. She may have been assuming, but Olivia and Noah didn’t look like they would be the best people to take on a massive monster.

“No. We all have our own specialties that help in a fight, but some people hang back if we’re taking down something that our more physical fighters can handle on their own.”

Courtney nodded. “I assume you’re one of the physical fighters?”

Wes smiled. “Yeah. It’s mainly me, Damien, and Shayne who do the up-close battle. Noah uses a bow so he hangs back, Olivia tags along with him sometimes. And Boze likes to hide in the shadows until she’s ready to destroy the thing with a spell or something.” 

“I showed you how to use a bow, but you’re not limited to just that. If you want to learn how to fight with a sword or a spear, we can definitely show you. Damien’s absolutely phenomenal with swords, so I would send you straight to him.”

Courtney toyed with the idea of using a sword. It was obviously something that required a lot of skill, but if she had the opportunity to learn how to fight, it would be stupid not to take it. 

“Yeah, that would be great.” She thought for a moment as she looked at Wes. He couldn’t have been much older than her, but he had this wisdom in his eyes that proved he had lived so much more life than his years showed. She knew that she showed it too. Most people she met didn’t assume she was just twenty years old, because she had lived through so much more than what the average twenty year-old would have. She felt a connection to Wes in that way, like they were kindred spirits. Both people who had been pushed through life too fast. She knew how he must have felt, being the one in charge of all these people. He had mentioned at the fire that he was the oldest of the group, the first born in the ‘renaissance of demigods’. That couldn’t be an easy title to live up to. But his constant positive energy overwhelmed any stress that he must have been feeling. Either that or he was very good at hiding how he felt. 

“Do you worry about them?” Wes turned to her and chuckled.

“They’re my family. I’m never _not_ worrying about them. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them. They come before me any time.” Courtney nodded. 

“You’re included in that too, you know.” Courtney sucked in a breath. She hadn’t thought about her being part of this family. She barely knew anybody. But Wes calling her family made her chest feel warm.

“If you ever need anything, anything at all. Tell me. I’ll do anything you need. We protect our own, we stick together. The gods may have forced us to be together, but we chose to be a family.” Courtney couldn’t hide her smile. She leaned her head into his shoulder and stayed there. It was a gesture of appreciation, a silent thank you. Wes wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her close to him for a moment. His way of saying ‘you’re welcome’. She really felt like Wes understood her, and she understood him. He reminded her so much of her brother, the one she had left behind when she left everything behind. She felt like she was with him again for the first time in years. It was a good feeling.

The moment was interrupted by the sound of a car engine growing louder as it made its way down the dirt driveway. Courtney craned her neck in an attempt to see who was approaching, but the dense wall of pine trees that surrounded the porch blocked her view. Wes stood and extended a hand for Courtney to pull herself up. 

“That’s probably them. They normally get out from the daycare center around this time.” The two walked inside the house to see Keith sat on one of the couches absentmindedly strumming a guitar. He nodded a hello to Wes and Courtney but did not make any effort to speak to them. It took less than a second for the door to swing open and reveal Olivia, Shayne and Noah, who all wore identical navy blue shirts with a small logo above their hearts. Shyane’s face was covered with splotches of green paint along with Noah’s shirt, while Olivia remained perfectly clean. Her long black hair was tied back into a ponytail and a few strands hung out and framed her face. They were all laughing, bright smiles plastered across their faces.

“Good day at work?” Wes asked with a chuckle. Courtney stifled a giggle at the boy’s appearance and pushed her hands into her pockets.

“Nope. Totally sucked. The children are nightmares and Shayne drop kicked one across the field.” Noah deadpanned. He broke almost immediately and dissolved into a contagious fit of laughter. Courtney couldn’t help but laugh along. She already liked Noah from meeting him yesterday, so it was easy to laugh with him.

“Great.” Wes smiled. “Well, I actually baked those goddamn cookies you asked for, so please enter the kitchen for a taste test.” Olivia’s eyes lit up with excitement and she bounced on the balls of her feet. The group followed Wes into the kitchen to the trays of cooling cookies, one of which was completely empty before he could speak again. Coutney hummed in approval as she took a bite. They had turned out well.

“These are awesome.” Olivia said through a mouthful of cookie. Wes smiled proudly.

“Courtney was very helpful, since she actually knows how to bake pretty well.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Olivia turned her gaze to Courtney, and a strong feeling of joy hit Courtney like a wave. She remembered that Olivia was the daughter of Aphrodite, which was apparent in her beauty, but she didn’t know if looking at a person and making them feel so intensely was also a side effect. She didn’t understand why one look into the girl’s eyes had hit her so hard, but Olivia seemed to notice her confusion.

“Wait, did I do the thing again?” She asked. The warmth disappeared from Courtney’s chest suddenly, which left her longing for it back. It wasn’t a bad feeling, just unexpected.

“Liv, it’s fine. You’re getting the hang of it still.” Wes said. Courtney had no idea what they were talking about, but clearly something like this had happened before. None of the others seemed too surprised and continued eating their cookies without another thought.

“I know, I just-” She turned to Courtney again with an awkward smile. “Sorry. Sometimes I do this thing where I project my emotions onto others. It’s kinda weird. I’ll try not to let it happen again.”

Oh. So that was where the sudden warmth and happiness came from. Courtney held out her hand in front of her.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine. That’s pretty cool, actually. Can you do it with any feeling?” Olivia looked relieved that Courtney wasn’t upset.

“Thanks! And yeah, most of them. As long as I’m feeling it strongly enough. Sometimes people get freaked out by it so I wanted to make sure-“

“No it’s totally cool-“

“I don’t want you to feel-“

“It’s okay.”

“You guys talk a lot.” Shayne said. He took another bite of his second cookie. She noticed that Noah had left the kitchen and was now talking with Keith in the living room, so it was just her, Olivia, Wes, and Shayne now. Courtney turned to him, an eyebrow raised. He met her eyes nonchalantly and gave her a small smirk.

“That’s rich, coming from you.” Olivia rolled her eyes at him, which only caused him to laugh.

“You got me there.” He chuckled. He turned his head to Wes, the same casual attitude he possessed apparent in his posture and expression.

“Have you fed the vampire today?” He asked with another bite. Wes took a second to think and responded with a laugh.

“He was up earlier and got something from the fridge.” He handed Shayne another cookie from the tray. “Give him this so he doesn’t pass out from low blood sugar.” Shayne took it quickly and marched himself towards a door next to the entrance to the back porch. Courtney saw a small bulb flicker on as Shayne made his way down a set of stairs that led to darkness she couldn’t make out.

Wes sighed happily, shaking his head at the door. Courtney raised an eyebrow at him, but he just shrugged his shoulders passively. She wasn’t getting any information out of him, it seemed.

“So Courtney,” Olivia started, drawing Courtney’s attention back to her. “You talked a little bit about it last night, but how long were you living in San Fran?”

Courtney didn’t mind the question, she was just surprised by it. Of course, it was expected that the people she would be staying with for an indeterminate amount of time would want to know her better. But maybe everything was just a lot for her to handle right now. She was taking in so many things all at once that it was hard to reflect unless there was peace and quiet.

“Oh, I uh, lived with a boyfriend for about a year and a half? I think that’s right. Things ended and I just kind of drifted around for about two years in the same few neighborhoods. So about three and a half years.”

Olivia leaned into her words, listening intently. Courtney picked at the bandages on her arm absentmindedly as a silence hung in the air for a second too long. Wes was wrapped the remaining cookies in tin foil, softly humming to himself as he paid the girl’s no mind. Courtney felt like she was in high school again, trying to make small talk with the kid she sat next to in class but not really wanting to have a full conversation. Olivia seemed nice enough though, she had especially been nice on the ride back from where her, Boze, and Noah had picked Courtney up. Maybe she had been using her emotion powers (for lack of a better word) then to calm her down. 

“Cool.” Olivia spoke softly. “Did you work during that? Have you ever worked?” Courtney thought about the question far too intensely, but she didn’t stop herself either. Technically, the last ‘real job’ she had was at a restaurant back in LA during her junior year of high school. After she had skipped town, she had tried to find work, but most places that actually paid well only wanted high school graduates, which she was not. That had landed her in the ‘job’ of running pot to other teenagers down the street for a friend of her boyfriend’s. The money was alright, but she only got to keep a little bit from every sale. After the guy got caught dealing, she had turned to trying to sweet talk the older men at the bar into getting her a drink or giving her a twenty. Most of the time she had just been brushed off, but the few times the guy was actually tipsy enough to give her a few bucks or buy her a drink she had felt like a queen. Those were the easier days though, back before she was crashing on stranger’s couches or sleeping in an alleyway that was crawling with stray cats and spiders. 

“Tried a few things, nothing really stuck. Most of the time I just hung out on street corners and would see where the night would take me.”

Olivia’s eyebrows narrowed in concern. She tentatively placed a hand on Courtney’s arm and looked to her with sympathy. That was the last thing that Courtney wanted. She had gotten it too many times for her to count. She didn’t feel too much shame in what she had done, some of the time she had enjoyed it, but most people just assumed it was all old creepy men who were looking for a young girl to take out the stress from their workday on. Of course, there were people like that sometimes, and she hated every second of it, but most of the time it was regular people who were just willing to pay. 

“I get it. I did the same thing back in LA.”

“Oh. Cool.”

Olivia smiled sheepishly for a moment before taking her hand off of Courtney’s arm and looking around the kitchen awkwardly, her eyes scanning the room frantically. Courtney wanted to break the tension somehow, he hated how she could feel how awkward the air around them was. Wes was still in the kitchen, minding his own business and checking the few plants that sat on the counter and stopping to water them. She wished he would say something to break the silence, but it looked like she would have to be the one to do it now.

“Were you any good?” Courtney regretting asking the second the words left her mouth. There was no doubt in her mind that it was not only a weird question, but also incredibly inappropriate to ask someone she had just met the day prior. Olivia looked to her with wide eyes, clearly surprised by the question. Courtney saw her go through what had to have been six different emotions before she settled on something neutral laughed quietly, her posture relaxing as she did so.

“I don’t know, you tell me.” She added an overly dramatic wink to the end of her sentence that made Courtney smile. The air around them began to clear of tension, and Courtney felt her shoulders loosen.

“You lived in LA before this? How did you find out about your mom?” She asked, much more at ease than she had been just moments before.

“Yeah, I lived their most of my life. I moved from China when I was little with my Dad and stayed there for his business. I didn’t know anything about my mom besides what my dad had told me, which was that she had died when I was a baby. He had a bunch of pictures around the house of him and this woman so I had just gone along with it.” Olivia began playing with the ends of her ponytail, wrapping a strand of hair around her finger over and over again as she spoke.

“After I graduated from school and was trying to figure out what to do with myself, my dad sat me down and tried to tell me everything, but I got so mad that he started crying and I left. I just kind of stayed around friend’s houses and only talked to my dad over the phone, if ever. I just felt really betrayed, because he had lied to me my whole life and then tried to tell me that it was okay because she was a goddess. I felt really bad about it for a while and I did a lot of stuff to stop the pain. My most popular option being standing on street corners.”

Courtney nodded along with Olivia’s story. It was clear she had told it before, probably to the other people who lived in the house, and was comfortable about sharing it. She had no shame in her voice, just a hint of bitterness that seemed out of character for someone who seemed so sweet. But looks could be deceiving; Courtney knew that well.

“One night I ended up at some guy’s house and he passed out drunk before anything went down, so I just left. Reached into my pocket and found a note that explained everything. I tried to burn it or throw it away but it always came back perfectly fine. I think I decided on my fourth attempt to get rid of it that I should maybe consider believing what it said.”

“That’s kinda cool.” Courtney said. Olivia shrugged in response.

“It was pretty weird when it was happening, but now it seems kinda cool, looking back. I was lucky that Wes and Noah found me before I went crazy trying to destroy the thing.”

It was then that Courtney noticed Wes no longer stalking around the kitchen. He had disappeared from the main area of the cabin entirely. Weird.

“So, what have you been doing today? Besides making cookies with Wes. And thanks again for that, it’s a big help.”

“No problem. It was pretty fun, actually.” Courtney smiled. “Uh, Wes showed me how to use the bow in the backyard. Got kinda scratched but it’s all good.” She ran her hand over the bandages on her arm.

“That’s great! I’m glad you liked it.” Olivia beamed at her. 

“Hey.” Wes’s voice surprised Courtney, and she turned to see him standing in the entryway of the kitchen. He had gotten dressed in dark jeans and a jacket, leaning against the counter casually.

“I’m going out to get stuff for dinner, any special requests?” 

“Oh! Can you make your steak?” Olivia asked, bouncing up and down in her place a little. She turned to Courtney with a wide smile. “It’s super good, you’ll love it.”

Courtney nodded an okay to Olivia, and Wes smiled out of the corner of his mouth. 

“Steak it is. Round up the troops and let everybody know that dinner’ll be ready in like two hours. See you guys later.” He strolled out the door, leaving Olivia and Courtney in the kitchen alone again.

Olivia turned to her with a soft smile. “You mind if we steal another cookie before dinner?”

Courtney laughed. “Not at all.” 

* * *

Olivia was right, Wes’s steak was amazing. She dug in as the conversation around the table bubbled up and popped every so often, broken by people taking their time enjoying the meal. All eight of the residents sat around the table, chatting with each other and eating. Courtney sat next to Olivia, Wes to her right at the end of the table. Damien sat across from him, talking to Shayne and Noah about a book that all of them had read. Everybody was talking to somebody else in some capacity, except for Courtney and Boze. They sat across from each other and ate their food in silence, watching the others converse. 

Courtney still didn’t know how to feel about Boze. She had gotten the gist of almost everybody’s personalities at this point, aside from Damien and Boze. They both seemed like loners, content in staying in their rooms and doing their own thing unless their presence was absolutely required. Courtney couldn’t relate to the feeling, she enjoyed being around people too much. She didn’t always have to talk, and most of the time she didn’t, just feeling the energy from other people was enough to recharge her batteries, so to speak. 

She liked sitting at the table listening to the others talk. It was therapeutic in a way, letting herself take on the thoughts of others. It was easier than letting her own mind roam.

“Boze.” Wes said softly. Courtney listened intently but tried not to make it obvious that she was. 

“Have you gotten anything else?” Boze shook her head and leaned closer to Wes. Courtney hunched over her plate to hear them, pretending she was deeply interested in the steak sauce smeared across it.

“Nothing yet. It’s like a storm brewing. I don’t know when it’s coming, but it sure as hell is soon enough.” She paused, considering her words. “We’ll have to tell them sooner than later.”

“I know.” Wes sighed. “I just wish we had more time.” Courtney looked up from her plate and caught Boze’s eye for a split second, the sharp gaze tearing into her like a blade. She knew that she had been listening. Courtney felt her cheeks go hot as she sunk into her chair, turning her attention to the other end of the table, where it seemed like Keith, Noah, and Olivia were in a heated discussion about some musician she hadn’t heard of. Wes and Boze continued their conversation but Courtney didn’t need to lean closer to hear it.

“I think she’ll need to go when the time comes. She’s the missing piece in this mess of a puzzle. She’s not a kid, Wes.” Courtney felt the hairs on the back of her neck bristle as Boze spoke. She knew that it was her they were talking about. She had no idea as to the context, but it was clearly something they had discussed before.

“I know that. But she shouldn’t just be thrown into all of this more than she has. She shouldn’t go.”

“She’s here for a reason. You have to accept that, or-“ Boze was suddenly cut off, her words turning to strangled coughs. Courtney turned to see her clutching her throat, Wes’s panicked expression a further indication that this was something that didn’t normally happen around here.

“Boze? Boze! Are you choking? What do you need?” He asked. Boze continued to sputter and gasp for breath, a dark liquid beginning to fall from the corners of her mouth and down her cheeks. It was too dark to be blood, which made it all the more unnerving for Courtney. The rest of the table had noticed what was happening and stared as Boze choked out more of the liquid onto the table.

She collapsed to the ground, shaking and still coughing. Her eyes had rolled back in her head so only the whites showed, which contributed to the idea that she was being possessed by some demon. Courtney and the others stood to watch while Wes knelt at her side, trying to console her. 

“Boze? Boze? It’s Wes, can you hear me?” Boze said nothing, just continued to spasm on the ground. Her hands fell to her sides and contorted weirdly, and Courtney had to look away from the scene. There was an awful retching sound, and a growing pile of the black liquid began forming next to Boze, still dripping from her lips. Her eyes had returned to normal, and the contortions had stopped, but her breathing was heavy. She looked to Wes and mumbled something inaudible. 

“What?” He asked. Boze turned to face the table and wiped away the liquid that stained her lips. Her eyes flickered around the room before settling on Courtney, her expression unreadable.

“It’s time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! sorry for the long wait for the chapter, ive been super busy getting ready for school to start and working on my heathers au fic (if u follow my tumblr u know, but check @damimenhaas for updates if ur interested). but this fic is so fun to write and i have so many ideas so i hope you're ready! sorry for the cliffhanger at the end, the next chapter hopefully won't take too long >:) please enjoy and leave a comment, feedback is super appreciated!!


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